Corruptela
by Dramione84
Summary: The Dark Lord is skilled at manipulating the mind, tempting Harry Potter with what he desires the most. Succumbing to the temptation, Harry gives in, crossing over to the ranks of the Death Eaters. When The Dark Lord reveals his plans, what choice will Harry make?


**A/N:** I wrote this a while back and its been sitting in my hard drive unbeta'd and far from polished, I know. I was thinking of extending this into a multi-chapter fic but life has pretty much zapped any desire to really push myself to write just now, which is why I don't have an update for Bittersweet Athenaeum currently. So by way of an apology to those of you who have been reading BA, here is a one shot Pots and Pans. Its slightly darker than my normal writings and the plot is inspired by the film Devil's Advocate.

* * *

 **Corruptela**

Cold sweat coated Harry's body, trickling down his spine as he sat bolt upright, panting heavily. His eyes darted about the room in fear, his subconscious still clawing at him as he realised he was now awake.

The mattress shifted slightly as the raven haired woman next to him sat up, the white sheet of the bed falling away from her naked torso as she reached for him. Her right palm pressed to his chest feeling the staccato pounding of his heart, lifting with each rise and fall of his heavy breathing, her delicate fingers of her left hand finding their way into his hair. She brushed the sweat-drenched locks away from his forehead gently as he turned, his deep green eyes finding her dark eyes that were filled with concern.

"Another nightmare?" she whispered, watching as the myriad of emotions flickered across his eyes, silently confirming what had woken him so suddenly.

Pansy nodded as Harry retrieved his glasses from the nightstand, her hand slipping from his hair and falling to his shoulder as he pressed the frames up the bridge of his nose before turning back to her. A small smile graced her lips as her fingers went up to cup his cheek. She knew him better than to press him for details.

Turning from him, she accio'd his shirt, slipping it on over her head before sliding out of the bed, padding softly out of the room as Harry laid back down, staring at the ceiling. The nightmares were always the same: a mosaic of images that flashed across his mind in a constant loop, forcing him to relive the most painful moments of his life. The emotions he experienced were amplified in his mind: fear; panic; remorse; sorrow; grief. They consumed him, suffocating him as his mind closed in.

Slipping silently down the backstairs to the kitchen, Pansy was startled as she rounded the corner at the bottom by the presence of her best friend sat at the table, his pale hands clasped tightly around a steaming mug.

"Merlin, Draco," Pansy gasped. "It's just after three in the morning, what are you doing up?"

"Same as you, I guess," he replied quietly as she reached into a cupboard to retrieve a glass.

Pansy turned on the tap, filling the glass as Draco lifted the cup to his lips. "I'm sure she is okay."

Her words spoken over her shoulder made Draco wince. "Which _she_?"

"Touche," Pansy replied, knowing that his concern for the two most important witches in his life was the reason he could not sleep. "Remus won't let anything happen to Granger," she told him firmly, shutting off the tap. She turned to face Draco, leaning back against the counter.

"That doesn't mean I am okay with her going on a mission alone," he responded before taking a sip from his cup. A nostalgic smile formed on his lips. "You know she mixed this tea blend for me? Says it should calm my nerves; help me sleep," he chuckled mirthlessly. "Can't fault the girl for trying eh? She knows me too well..." his words trailed off as he allowed his thoughts to wander.

It had been five years since Voldemort had ordered Draco to kill his headmaster, Albus Dumbledore. Hermione had found him at his weakest, most vulnerable point, breaking down in the bathroom. If anyone else had found him, things might have turned out differently. But it had been her compassion that forced him to confess the nightmare he was living and to accept protection from The Order. Dumbledore and Snape had come up with a plan, the potions master helping him to fake his death by poisoning, buying The Order the time it needed to spirit Narcissa Malfoy away to a safe house under the protective wards of Beauxbatons academy. Narcissa had one request: The Order were to protect her goddaughter, Pansy Parkinson.

As Draco and Hermione had grown closer, so too had Harry grown close to Pansy and gradually the Slytherins had earned the trust of The Order. The war had drawn out, past their graduation and now the unlikely group of friends were living on a full time basis in Grimmauld Place. Ron meanwhile, the last of the trio to warm up to the new members of The Order, had been sent to Romania to help Charlie keep tabs on Death Eater sympathisers.

With supplies running low, Remus and Hermione had travelled by portkey to a remote part of Southern France to procure rare plants for potion making.

"She isn't alone, she is with Remus," Pansy remarked as Draco eyed her over the edge of his cup.

"Same difference," he shrugged.

* * *

Returning to the bedroom she and Harry shared, she climbed into bed, handing Harry the glass of water. He took it gratefully, the cool libation soothing his parched throat. The nightmares were always the same, torturing and tormenting him with images of his mother and father and the role Snape played in their deaths. In the aftermath of the nightmare he would lie awake for hours trying to stop the burning hatred he felt overwhelm him, each time knowing that the next time he saw Snape the tension between them would be increased once more.

He tried to ignore the voice inside his head, a voice he knew to be Voldemort, telling him that the Snape had been the instrument of their deaths; telling him that Voldemort was his only link to them; telling him that if he defected, Voldemort would reunite him with them.

"The hallows," the voice whispered. "You have them and with them I can give you what you desire."

Turning to Pansy, he reached out, pulling her close. He loved everything about her: the way she never pressed him for more than he could give; the way she grounded him; the way she gave him something to hold on to. Their relationship was based on the words _un_ said; the words in the silence as they lay in the dark when it became _too much._ She alone understood him, but he could never tell her the dark thoughts he had as he lay staring at the ceiling, the whispered voice growing louder and louder as each nightmare came.

Pansy slid her body over his, her mouth covering his as his hands gripped her waist, delighting in the way his fingers dug into her flesh, knowing that tomorrow her smooth skin would bare his fingerprints; his territory marked. She relished in his rough touch as she ground into him, giving as he took what he needed from her. Her hands gripped his shoulder as he came up, her legs wrapping around his torso. He bit down on her collarbone, the pain sending her soaring.

Pansy dragged her hands through his hair, clinging onto him as she tumbled over the edge and then she was on her back, hands gliding over the planes and contours of his muscles as he pulled her left leg up over his shoulder, hand covering her knee. She met him thrust for thrust as he pounded her into the mattress, his face contorting in ecstasy as he arched his back thrusting hard into her one final time.

Wrapped in his arms, Pansy drifted off to sleep in a post coital haze, as Harry stared once more at the ceiling, the voice in his head growing louder and louder.

* * *

Cold hands gripping the wand in his hand, Harry stumbled through the graveyard, fear and anticipation clamping around his heart. His eyes darted around in trepidation, as he staggered disorientated. It had been seven years since he had last visited the graveyard at Little Hangleton, however, this was the first time he had arrived here by design.

Hearing the crack behind him he spun round, wand digging into the flesh of Lucius Malfoy.

"Come, Harry, that is no way to greet an old friend," Lucius reprimanded him gently, his lip curling into a sly sneer.

"We are hardly friends, Malfoy," Harry spat, lowering his wand slightly.

Lucius chuckled. "Well I am sure we will soon all be very good friends," he remarked as he lifted his hand, indicating the direction in which they were to walk.

Harry swallowed hard, burying down deep the last of his uncertainty. This was what he wanted, he told himself.

"Ah Harry, so nice of you to join us," Voldemort greeted as they approached the Death Eaters gathered around him. Beside Voldemort, Bellatrix Lestrange scowled. "Are you sure we can trust the boy?" she hissed, her eyes fixed on Harry.

Voldemort considered her question carefully before turning to Harry. "Have you brought what I desire?"

Wordlessly, Harry tossed a garment that shimmered as it landed at Voldemort's bare feet. Voldemort said nothing as Bellatrix bent, gasping as she retrieved the garment. "Is this what I think it is?" she asked, shock etched across her face as she looked up at Voldemort for confirmation. Voldemort remained stoic as he glanced at Harry. "And the other items?" he casually asked.

Harry turned to Lucius, green eyes meeting ice blue as he held out his wand for the elder Malfoy to take. Reaching into his pocket, he placed a golden snitch in his hand. Turning back to Voldemort, he watched as the man who was once known as Tom Riddle attempt to contain his glee at having the items in his possession. Voldemort stepped forward slowly, his long bony fingers wrapping delicately around the wand, the power coursing through his veins as he lifted it to the sky. The earth seemed to tremble underneath their feet as the assembled crowd watched him cast lumos igniting the night sky, the atmosphere around them hissing and crackling as Voldemort laughed maniacally.

* * *

"Come, Harry, you have earnt a high honour tonight as you join my ranks," Voldemort smiled, gesturing with his open palm to the seat at the table at Malfoy Manor that had previously been occupied by Lucius Malfoy. His voice was barely above a whisper, yet it carried on the air, the words seeming to be inside Harry's head before they were uttered.

The elder Malfoy cast Harry a haughty look of derision as he moved down one seat, quietly seething at the favour Voldemort was showing The Boy Who Had Turned To The Dark Lord.

"For those of you who do not know," he began, addressing the assembled Death Eaters, "We are joined tonight by Mister Harry Potter who has come over to our side." He paused, allowing the quiet murmurs for a moment as the significance of his defection to sink in.

"How can you be sure we can trust him, my Lord," a voice spoke from the end of the table. Harry chanced a side long glance, catching sight of Yaxley eyeing him suspiciously.

"Mister Potter has brought with him proof of his new allegiance," Voldemort informed him, lifting his wand hand gracefully, the elegant piece of wood coming into view.

"What's that? Where did he get it?" Alecto Carrow gasped from halfway down the table.

"This is the Elder Wand, procured from the late Albus Dumbledore," Voldemort smiled, silencing Alecto. "Give me your arm, Harry," he quietly instructed.

Harry swallowed hard, ignoring any lingering feelings of disquiet, the voice in his head growing stronger once more as Voldemort held his gaze. "Seal your allegiance and I will reward you," the voice instructed, tempting Harry to renounce his ties to the light.

Harry succumbed, grasping his left sleeve firmly with his right hand, yanking it up to expose his forearm.

Voldemort reached out, caressing the flesh of Harry's forearm. Harry did not flinch as Voldemort's fingers brushed over his skin, the cool touch vaguely pleasing, in a way that Harry was sure should alarm him, but on some level he was aware it did not. No one spoke, everyone seemingly holding their breath as Voldemort curled his fingers slowly around his wrist, as he brought the tip of his wand down onto Harry's forearm.

Harry felt the dark magic seep into his skin for the split second before the searing pain burnt into his skin. It was like nothing he had experienced before, pain and pleasure washing over him as he felt himself give in, the power of the dark magic flooding through him and suddenly the phrase 'drunk with power' held a new meaning for him. He felt invincible and incredible and he never wanted this feeling to stop.

Suddenly the feeling was over and Voldemort pulled away, his tongue darting out of his mouth, dragging slowly along his bottom lip as it curled into a sly smirk. He savoured the moment, smiling approvingly at the way his mark contorted on Harry's arm, acquainting itself with the recipient.

* * *

"Father, you summoned me," the voice of a young woman snapped Harry out of his drug-like haze. He turned in the direction of the sound, a little startled to see a beautiful woman, he guessed to be of his own age, standing to his left, facing Voldemort.

"Harry," Voldemort smiled at him. "I would like to introduce you to my daughter, Delphini." Harry felt a surge of unexpected arousal as Delphini smiled at him. "I believe she is the same age as you," Voldemort turned to his left as Bellatrix nodded, smiling. "Yes, my Lord. I conceived her in the same month Lucius sired his blood traitor spawn."

Harry's eyes drifted to Bellatrix's left, her husband Rodolphus Lestrange's face twitching slightly as he tried to mask his obvious distaste for his wife's sexual indiscretions. Harry returned his gaze to Bellatrix who was enjoying the way Lucius Malfoy shifted uncomfortably at the mention of his traitorous son, Draco.

"I heard he is further disgracing his name by fucking the cunt of that mudblood whore, Granger," she casually remarked in her sing song voice, grinning as the other Death Eaters laughed and vocalised their disgust.

"Quiet," Voldemort snapped, silencing the disruption. "Come, Harry, we have much to discuss."

* * *

Harry took his regular seat at the right hand of Lord Voldemort, listening as Lucius gave the latest report. It had been three months since his defection and little progress had been made, despite Voldemort having The Hallows. Voldemort's rage had intensified with each report, punishing the failings of his pathetic followers by subjecting them to the cruciatus at the hand of Harry.

For his part, Harry was becoming increasingly addicted to the dark magic that flowed through his veins as he partook in the torture, the light in his magic slowly extinguished by the unforgivable.

* * *

"Harry, come," Voldemort instructed, smiling when Harry followed him from the drawing room to the private sanctum of Lucius Malfoy's study. Voldemort nodded for him to seat himself in the wingback chair opposite him.

"I have a task for you," Voldemort informed him. "Succeed in this task and I shall reward you greatly." Suddenly Harry's mind flooded with images of his parents as Voldemort paused.

Delphini appeared at her father's side smiling. Voldemort kept his eyes fixed on Harry's as he took his daughter's hand. Harry felt oddly aroused as she seated herself on her father's knee, flashing Harry a coy smile.

Harry swallowed hard, glancing at Voldemort for clarification.

"I wish for you to sire offspring with my daughter. I require an heir. My daughter will be the vessel, you will be the seed."

Harry took in Voldemort's words as Delphini pushed herself from her father's lap, slinking over to Harry. He was rendered speechless as she poured herself into his lap, her hands taking his and placing them on her breasts. She moaned slightly as Harry cupped her flesh, seemingly unable to stop himself from giving into the lust that engulfed his senses.

Something in him told him this wasn't right, a small spark of light igniting in his core. Somehow he found it in him to resist the voice that told him to give Voldemort what he wanted so that he could be reunited with his parents. He began to shake his head.

"No," he whispered, as Delphini tried to kiss him. "No," he said louder, shaking his head more firmly. "No," he shouted, pushing her from his lap.

Voldemort snarled in anger. Harry grabbed his wand. "You liar," he yelled as Voldemort started to laugh. "I won't do this."

"It's too late, you are mine," Voldemort informed him gleefully.

Harry shook his head. "No, I am not. I am my own and I choose death."

Voldemort stopped laughing as Harry's words sunk in, his face falling as Harry turned his wand on himself.  
" _Avada kedava_."

* * *

Cold sweat coated Harry's body, trickling down his spine as he sat bolt upright, panting heavily. His eyes darted about the room in fear, his subconscious still clawing at him as he realised he was now awake.

The mattress shifted slightly as the raven haired woman next to him sat up, the white sheet of the bed falling away from her naked torso as she reached for him. Her right palm pressed to his chest feeling the staccato pounding of his heart, lifting with each rise and fall of his heavy breathing, her delicate fingers of her left hand finding their way into his hair. She brushed the sweat-drenched locks away from his forehead gently as he turned, his deep green eyes finding her dark eyes that were filled with concern.

"Another nightmare?" she whispered.

Reaching out for her, Harry cupped her cheek, pulling her close, kissing her deeply. Pansy was startled at first, relaxing into his touch as Harry poured everything he had into that one kiss.

He knew no matter what, he could not give into the temptation of his nightmares. Suddenly he pulled away, breathless. "I need to talk to Draco."

* * *

"It's just after three in the morning, what are you doing up?" Draco asked shocked as Harry appeared in the kitchen.

Harry swallowed. "I need you to teach me occlumency."


End file.
